


Safe in the Nest

by dragonofheaven07



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Childhood, Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Father-Son Relationship, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, M/M, Nervousness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4320333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofheaven07/pseuds/dragonofheaven07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of Bruce/Dick drabbles, mostly pre-relationship Daddy!Bats and Baby!Dick</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Safe in the Nest

**Author's Note:**

> All originally posted here: http://dragonofheaven07.tumblr.com/post/29930659128/my-fanfiction-masterlist

**Thanks**

Dick is uncharacteristically quiet during the car ride to the Wayne Manor. His soon-to-be home.

He feels so small in the huge leather interior, holding his backpack containing his few personal belongings tightly to his chest. His new guardian sits beside him, back straight, the very image of high class society, a world Dick doesn’t fit into. Never will fit into.

The car rounds a sharp corner, the mansion in sight, and it’s more like a castle, with its sweeping towers and grand steel gates.

Dick’s skin pales, he bites his lip. He doesn’t belong here. This will be a disaster–

A hand pats his knee. “It’s all right, Dick. You’re going to be fine, just stay close to me.” Bruce smiles comfortingly.

Dick returns the smile. “Thanks.”

**Knowledge**

There isn’t a case today, and the weather is dreary and pouring rain, so Dick is bored out of his mind. The ten-year-old shuffles around the Manor library, stands on his tip-toes as he peers up the towering book shelves. His mentor is buried in a book, legs crossed in his favorite armchair.

Dick picks a thick book at random, and pulls it with some difficulty off the shelf and into his arms. He almost topples over backwards, it’s so heavy. Dick’s face lights up when he sees that it’s an encyclopedia of bird species.

He brings it over to where Bruce is sitting, and lays on the floor. He opens the book and scrolls a page. “Did you know that the America Robin uses different sounds when it’s threatened? Like when it’s alone, or if a predator is close to a nest?”

“Mmmm, I do remember hearing that,” Bruce says, not looking up.

“And they’re a member of the thrush family?”

“I’ve read that.” The Bat nods.

“And that the males sing the longest of all the songbirds?”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

Dick pouts. “You sure know a lot about Robins.”

Bruce chuckles, rumples the boy’s hair. “I know everything about my baby bird.”

**Snow Angels**

“Stay alert, Robin. I’m aware the weather is a bit of a hindrance, but you must pay attention. You never know when we’ll have to go into action.”

“R-Right.”

Dick eyes around the city, the evening snow continuing to fall. It’s the coldest night he’s ever been on duty, his first winter season on patrol, and he’s just grateful Batman allowed him to wear pants. He tugs the yellow cape around himself, peers below, then back to his ever so serious mentor. “It’s…k-kinda boring tonight,” he notes softly.

The Bat doesn’t even look away. “Yes…”

Another fifteen minutes pass. No activity on the streets whatsoever. Dick sighs, fidgets in place. “Real exciting, huh?”

Bruce doesn’t respond.

Dick has had enough. He plops down on the rooftop, falling back into the snow, arms spread wide. He looks to Batman, who appears to be ignoring him. Oh well. Dick settles into the shallow bank of snow, opening his mouth to catch snowflakes on his tongue. “Ah! I got one!” he squeals. “Uwah, another! Bats, you have to try, this is fun!”

“Robin…” Bruce starts in that gravelly voice of his, a warning.

Dick jumps up from the ground, brushes snow from his cape. “S-Sorry,” he mutters, and goes back to watching the streets. 

Nearly an hour goes by in silence. Dick sniffles, wipes his nose. All of a sudden, something smacks him in the head, something bitterly cold that almost takes him off his feet. A snowball. He whirls to Bruce. His long black cape is tucked around him, still staring off at the same place. “Did you…?" 

A small grin plays on Bruce’s lips. "Maybe.”

Dick bursts out a laugh, then chucks a ball of snow in return. Bruce dodges it easily, and hurls another snowball. The patrol duties are put on hold as the two exchange in a high-spirited war, running along the rooftop, Dick giggling all the way.

And for that moment, to Bruce Wayne, the city of Gotham isn’t so cold.

**Thousand**

“How much do you love me?" The small boy climbs into Bruce’s lap.

Bruce puts down the police file, adjusting his seat on the couch so Dick is more comfortable. "Very much so.”

“But I want to know how  _much_ , like a number.” Dick pouts, swinging his legs. “Like a thousand?”

“A lot more than a thousand.” The older man shakes his head. “Many times more.”

“Ten-thousand?”

“Higher.”

“A hundred-thousand?”

“Not even close.”

Dick’s eyes widen in wonder. “Even more than a _hundred_ hundred-thousand?”

Bruce smiles warmly. “Even more than that.”

**Lift**

“Up!”

The tiny boy is bouncing on his heels, hands outstretched, little fingers wiggling and grabbing air. “Pick me up!”

Bruce puts aside his pen, moves out from his desk. “All right, all right.” He lifts Dick from under his arms, and sets him on his lap. 

At once, Dick clings to his guardian’s cashmere sweater. He burrows into Bruce’s chest, rubs his cheek against the soft fabric. Dick hugs his waist, and sighs in contentment.

“…Anything wrong?” the Bat asks, curious.

The boy raises his head, and he’s sporting a toothy smile. “Nope,” he says. “Just wanted to hold you.”

**Love Remains the Same**

“Bruce! Bruce!”

The boy tugs on the Dark Knight’s cape to garner his attention, excitedly bouncing up and down. “This is for you! Happy Valentine’s Day!” Dick shoves a piece of construction paper at him. Bruce takes it, and looks upon the crayon outline of an elephant holding an enormous red heart with the scribbled words, ‘Be Mine’. 

"I drew it myself!“ Dick states proudly.

"Thank you, it’s wonderful.” Bruce laughs, rumpling his young ward’s hair.

Dick hugs his mentor tightly, the Bat's cape encircling around him. “Love you, Bruce!” He giggles.

“I love you too, Dick.”

–

He’s barely left the streets in seventy-two hours, and it still hasn’t taken its toll on him. The Bat carefully watches below as he waits for the drug deal scheduled in an hour.

He reaches into his belt to fish out his binoculars, but instead finds something else. "Alfred, did you put this in my pouch?“ he asks over the tele-communicator in his cowl. 

"Indeed I did, sir,” the butler answers with a chuckle. “Master Richard inquired me to do it. He knew just how busy you were.”

“Yes…” Bruce protectively holds the small bag of chocolate to his chest, a note tied on the side. It read, 'Haven’t seen you much since joining the Titans, but that doesn’t mean I’d forget. Happy Valentine’s. Hope you don’t work yourself to to death. Much love, Dick.’

“Thank you, Alfred.”

**Illness**

He sneezes and it’s like thunder echoing the high bedroom walls.

Bruce wipes his nose, rustles beneath the covers. He’s not used to laying down, when he’d rather be out working. Two-Face was still slinking around Gotham, a trail finally starting to develop, and if it hadn’t been for Alfred’s forceful insistence, Bruce would have been searching the streets. He rolls, tries to get comfortable, but it’s no use, and he’s a stitch away from sneaking out the back window.

The door suddenly swings, but instead of Alfred it’s Dick. He waves, smiles brightly as he steps into the room. “Hey, Bruce! Heard you were feeling under the weather.”

“Dick–” Bruce sneezes again, and Dick hands him the tissue box. “Aren’t you supposed to out right now?”

“Decided to take a night off, check up on my favorite billionaire philanthropist,” Dick says, sitting down on the bed. He drifts over the mussed up sheets. “Not much luck falling asleep?”

“No,” Bruce admits.

“Well then.” Dick kicks off his shoes, huddles close to him. “I can stay and watch over you. Make sure nothing bad happens.”

“Dick, please, I’m fine,” Bruce begins to say when Dick grasps his hand.

“You need your rest. Just relax for a bit. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Bruce wants to protest, but Dick is giving him that puppy-dog look that even Batman can’t turn down. “…All right.” He settles under the headboard, lets his eyes close.

Dick kisses his cheek.

“Sweet dreams, Bruce.”

**Restless**

“How are you, Dick?”

“I’m…good, I’m good." The younger man smiles, continues the kiss, but Bruce can sense the anxiety in his tone.

Bruce lifts Dick’s chin. "You’re scared.”

Dick shakes his head. “N-No, I’m okay, I swear. Let’s get this over with–”

The Bat pushes him back, puts his firm hands on Dick’s shoulders. “We don’t have to do this now if you’re uncomfortable. I don’t want to rush you. You can take all the time you need.”

“…Really?” Dick asks softly, flushing in spite of himself.

Bruce hugs him close, pets his hair gently. “Of course, love.”


	2. A Bat and a Bird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few people asked, so here's more cuteness! I made this a chapter instead of a series to keep the drabbles together if I end up writing more later. Happy Batman Day!

**Wallpaper**

The tour of Wayne Manor is coming to a close, passed the extensive grounds, the fireplace in the sitting room, the massive table in the dining room, and up an immense staircase along endless halls. Bruce, leading the small group with his ward and butler, stops at a door. He smiles to Dick. “And this will be your room,” he says as he turns the knob.

Dick shyly peeks inside. All day he has been in constant awe at the size and scope of the mansion, and now is no different. The room is more than twice the size of any he’s ever lived in. The king bed is a mahogany four-poster. A computer is set up on a spacious office desk. Bookshelves that rival the manor’s library tower on either side of the room. The furthest windows span the entire length of the wall, framing a magnificent view of the backyard gardens.

“This is all mine?” the boy asks.

“All yours.”

“Thank you so much. It’s--oh, wow.” 

Dick was so captivated by the rest of the room, he hadn’t focused on the wallpaper. White, with happily dancing elephants.

“That’s...” Dick thinks quickly how to phrase it. “...festive?” he finishes with a weak smile.

Bruce’s mouth droops in a worried frown. “I hope I’m not offending you, that was the furthest thing from my intentions.”

Dick shakes his head. “I’m not upset. It’s just that, umm.” He can’t find the words. He places a hand over one of the elephants, this one balancing a ball on her nose. 

“Master Bruce insisted that he select and put up the wallpaper himself,” the butler notes. He grins warmly. “He said he wanted to make you ‘feel more welcome’.”

“Alfred, please.” Bruce turns his head away and clears his throat. Hidden under his hand, Dick can see that Bruce’s face is flushing. “I guess you are a bit too old for this sort of thing. I’ll have it changed by tomorrow.”

“No, no, please don’t,” Dick insists. He smiles to his new guardian. “Thank you for thinking of me. I’d...like to keep it, for a little while at least.”

And so, for the next week, then month, then three months, the wallpaper remained. 

**Charity**

It’s the first time that Dick is accompanying Bruce in public as the billionaire’s ward. The occasion is an auction to support the homeless. Before the auction, the two are also volunteering at the Serenity House, one of the oldest shelters in Gotham. They dress casually for the event, Bruce forgoing his black tie for a respectable button up and Dick in a pressed t-shirt and shorts. 

Cameras flash at the front doors of the shelter as they step out of the car. Bruce gives them a confident smile, waves, answers a few of their questions and comments. 

Dick shrinks almost hidden behind the much taller man. He doesn’t want to intrude. 

Bruce pats Dick on the back, looks at him fondly. “This is Dick Grayson,” he tells the reporters. “He’s been kind enough to lend a hand today as well.”

Dick grins to Bruce, then out to the cameras. “I’m honored to help.”

Inside, the shelter is near to bursting with residents, sharing beds, even plates, in the cramped space. Bruce and Dick spend the morning doing odd jobs: laundry, cleaning dishes, sweeping up dust and clearing grime with the other volunteers. A truck comes that afternoon containing boxes of bedding, books, clothing, toys, all new. The excited squeals of the children and the tears of their parents say it all. 

Dick is beaming at their happiness. This feeling of making a difference beats anything he could accomplish as Robin. 

He is bringing in another box, when he notices an elderly woman sitting off by herself, fidgeting and downcast. “Is she alright?” Dick asks a shelter director.

“She arrived just the other day, she doesn’t speak English,” the director says. “We tried Spanish, Italian, German, even Arabic, but we still can’t fully communicate with her.”

Dick hands his box up to Bruce, who has a stack of his own. “Could you take this one too, please?”

Bruce does and Dick runs over to the woman. “Lacho deves!” he says to her. “Sar mai san?”

The woman’s face brightens with joy. She answers back excitedly, gripping his hand, and the two start to converse. 

“Her name is Ferka. She speaks Romani, that’s why she couldn’t understand,” Dick explains to Bruce and the director. “She hasn’t eaten today, so I’ll take her to the kitchen.” The boy lets her lean on him as they head off, chatting all the way.

“Great kid you have there, Mr. Wayne,” the director says. 

Bruce couldn’t have been prouder. “He certainly is.”

**Portrait**

Dick had been living at Wayne Manor for almost a week, and still has trouble finding his way. He’s been searching for the study for over half an hour, not sure if it was on the upper floor or not. He manages to find the top of the stairs and holds the carved wood banister as he steps down. 

One thing he’s been curious about, but hasn’t had the heart to question, is the portrait hanging on the staircase wall. The painting is enormous, maybe ten feet high, encased in an intricate gold frame. A smiling couple looks out to the artist, a black-haired man and a brunette woman. They carry the air of elegance in the highest class, the man in a polished suit and the woman in pearls. By their touch and closeness, they are clearly in love. 

Dick would pause at the portrait every time he went up or down the stairs. It was truly a masterpiece, one created from joy and celebration. The boy could guess those people were--

“My mother and father.”

Dick looks out to the landing and Bruce is staring at the painting too. 

“A present from my father to my mother when they got engaged. It’s my favorite image of them.”

Dick had been told they had died when Bruce was a young. Murdered in front of him with nothing he could do, just like Dick’s parents were. 

“I...kept a couple photographs of my mom and dad too,” Dick says. “It makes the pain hurt a little less.” 

“Would you like one of them framed?” Bruce asks. “We could enlarge it, put it next to this one.”

Dick nods. Bruce understood him. He and Bruce were two orphans at different stages. Alone, but together. 

“I’d like that very much.” 

**Rip**

One hit to the jaw, and bam, the mook hits the alley ground. The Dark Knight takes down another with a knee to the solar plexus. 

“Bats! Behind you!”

He puts up a foreman in time for the knife to slice the fabric and not his face. He grabs the blade, along with the (now broken) fingers of the thug, and knocks him out by throwing him against a brick wall. 

Robin, finished with his own fights, patters over to his mentor. “Are you okay?” 

Batman inspects his arm. “That knife was just above average. Nothing serious. The kevlar absorbed the damage, but the costume didn’t.” 

He heads in the direction of the Batmobile. “I’ll mend it when we get home.”

“Wait!” Robin tugs on Batman’s cape. “I can fix it now.”

“I didn’t carry a needle or thread with me tonight.”

“But I did, a needle at least!” Robin rummages through his belt pouches, and pulls one out. He then picks up the end of Batman’s cape and plucks out a frayed fiber. “And here’s our thread.”

Robin triple knots one end of the fiber and pulls it through the needle hole. “Show me the rip,” he says.

Batman holds it out to him.

Robin’s hand moves quick as the point darts back and forth along the tear. In no time at all, the cut was fixed, and barely noticeable. 

“Where did you learn to do that?” the Bat asks. 

“A little trick from the Haly’s.” Robin smiles sadly. “Accidents happen, but you always need to be ready to perform.”

The Dark Knight nods. He pats his partner's head. “Thank you, Robin.” 

**Scare**

Another overblown gala for the Gotham elite is scheduled that evening, so Bruce leaves the cave early and goes to get ready. He is rounding the hallway corner when--

“Boo!”

Dick appears hanging upside down from the curtains. A wide grin is stretched on his small face. “Got you!”

Bruce smirks. “I knew you were up there.”

“Liar, I saw you flinch!” Dick points an accusing finger to him. “Fess up!”

Bruce holds out his arms. “Okay, I admit it.” 

Dick climbs down, his arms around Bruce’s neck. “I scared the Batman!” He giggles with glee.

“Oh, that’s not the only way you scare me,” Bruce says. 

Dick tilts his head. “How do I scare you?”

“Lots of things. Wondering if you’re doing well in school, if you’re hurt, if you’re lonely.” 

“But why?”

Bruce hugs him close. “Because you’re my boy.”

**Growing**

“Stand straight, shoulders relaxed.” Bruce kneels and marks a notch on the wall. “You are four feet and...six and a half inches,” he concludes.

Dick props himself up on his toes. “Only half an inch?” he says glumly. “I thought it was more.”

“There’s plenty of time for a growth spurt. Just after I turned twelve, I grew six inches.”

“How tall are you now?”

“Six foot two.”

“Then I wanna be that tall too!” Dick wraps his arms around him. “It’ll make hugs a lot easier when we’re the same height!” 

**Dream**

His bedroom is pin drop quiet, in the early hours of morning. Bruce gasps and blinks awake in the darkness, his body in a cold sweat. It was all a nightmare. This is reality.

He turns on his side, and sees the curve of Dick’s back, still there. Bruce gently caresses the younger man’s cheek, feeling the tingle of him inhaling and exhaling. It was all a bad, bad dream, and this is real.

Bruce pulls Dick to him, hugging his chest. He kisses the nape of Dick’s neck, nuzzling his hair, breathing in his scent. 

“I’ll always keep you safe,” he whispers. “Always.”


End file.
